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“There are many things not fair about you,” I grumbled. “Another one is your smell.”
He raised his eyebrows. “My smell? You’ve never complained before.”
“It’s not a complaint so much as an accusation. You smell ridiculously good. Even when you’ve been in a saddle all day. Even when you haven’t bathed in a week.”
It was true. Even from here I could smell the mix of musk and spice.
“Cinnamon and sandalwood.” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “You rub it all over yourself when I’m not looking, don’t you?”
He grinned. “I’ll never tell.”
My heart flip-flopped. He’d slicked his black hair back that morning. Now his horns were more noticeable, black and sharp and alluring.
“Would you like me to lick your horns tonight?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“My horns?”
Was I mistaking it, or had he jumped a little?
I took a deep breath, hoping for a deeper whiff of his scent, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Yes, your horns. Would you like me to wrap my hands around them as you thrust deep within me?”
He was watching me with a strange expression. “What are you doing, Morgan?”
“What?”
“You look like you’re tracking an animal.”
I felt a blush spreading across my cheeks.
“Aha, the Valtain blushes,” he crowed, just as Gawain rode up and clapped him on the shoulder.
The red-haired man grinned at us. “Well, you two look as if you’re enjoying yourselves on this long and lonely road. What are you talking about?”
“Oh, nothing,” I said swiftly. “Nothing at all.”
Gawain raised his brows. “Nothing? C’mon. It has to be more interesting than what Hawl was just telling me about.”
“What’s that? How many more moths they plan to put in your pancakes?” I quipped.
Gawain grimaced while Draven chortled. My mate hadn’t minded the taste of the flapjacks. Once he’d found out what Hawl had done, he’d laughed his head off then asked for another helping... while Gawain had run to rinse out his mouth with seawater.
“Something like that. Not to mention their hope that we’ll run into more bandits soon.” Gawain snuck a look back at the Bearkin. “Honestly, part of me wonders...”
“Wonders what?” Draven asked.
“If we weren’t here... would Hawl have... you know.” Gawain lowered his voice. “Would they have eaten those bandits?”
I choked back a laugh. “I suppose to bears, it was rather a waste of meat.”
Gawain shuddered. “Gruesome.”
“Well, it’s no less gruesome than us eating a fish,” I said.
“Though the bandits were sentient,” Draven reminded me.
“I suppose there is that,” I admitted. “Perhaps that changes things.” I grinned at Gawain. “I’m sure they wouldn’t have done it. I’m sure they wouldn’t eat you. Is that what you’re really worrying about?”
Gawain made a face at me. “You’re probably right. Though all of their talk of crunching bones and rending flesh...”
